CHAPTER FOUR (of NINE)
After a crappy night's sleep, mostly agonizing over yesterday's humiliating 'gay-test' for Richie, I get up in another of my grumpy moods. What a fucked-up disaster that so-called test was! Humiliating for both of us, but mostly for him. Yep, once again I put myself in a totally untenable position and didn't know how to get out of it.
And, there's no sense denying the sexual component involved. It was completely unintentional though! I would never 'PLAN' to do anything like that, but it happened just the same. I simply don't know what the fuck is going on in my head lately. It must be Richie! He has some kind of unexplainable effect, um, well, I don't know what it is. It's 'something' strange and unique, something totally new to me. No excuses though, making him 'cum' in his pants was an unforgivable thing to do and, consequently, my conscience won't let me forget it.
So, yeah, I've got a ginormous guilty conscience about that. And, I'm serious about making it up to Richie, but that's complicated. I can't all of a sudden start acting like a choir boy groveling with apologies. Richie would think I'm deranged, never mind what the 'gang' would think. And, I already said 'I'm sorry'. I'm pretty sure I did. Yeah, I said I'm sorry, but I've got to do something more than a mumbled, 'Sorry'.
Well, the obvious first move on my part is to NOT lay another finger on him... ever! The second logical step is treating him the same way I treat the other guys, which isn't all that special, but it is what it is, as someone once said. Those two simple steps aren't much, but they'll seem major to Richie when compared to my previous behavior. After that, I'll figure out what the third thing I need to do is; figure it out later.
Well, maybe I won't need to worry about any of this anyway. It'd be perfectly understandable if the kid avoids any further contact with me. Who could blame him? Yeah, but, after saying that, he did seem happy that I invited him to hang out with the boys on the boardwalk. Yes, although it actually might be the best solution for both of us if he gave up on me and the boys entirely. I mean, something fucked up happens in my brain chemistry when I'm with that kid. Hell, if I believed in the occult, I'd think he cast a 'spell' on me. That's if I believed in that horseshit, which I do not. Actually, I don't know what the fuck to believe anymore.
And then, the very next day, Richie shows up on the boardwalk. Omigod, there he is walking right up to us with a big smile on his face explaining to no one in particular how he went to the first place he met us, and, "Of course, you guys weren't there because you're here." None of the 'gang' says anything, so Richie, still smiling, adds, "Um, Mike said I could hang out with you guys. I hope you don't mind." He's a happy, cute, puppy dog... that's what comes to mind when I see Richie's innocent enthusiasm for, um, for whatever. Mostly for his desire to make friends, I guess.
I witnessed that exchange between Richie and a few of the guys while I was illegally sitting on my bike on the boardwalk. I'm interested in what Mac's and Tony's reaction will be and, huh, they're not sure what to do. They both take a glance over at me to see what I'm going to say. Richie didn't notice me sitting near the railing on my bike, but when the boys look over at me, Richie does too.
After like a two-second pause, I give Richie a friendly little smile, saying, "Hi, Richie, I'm glad you persevered and found where we're hanging out this morning. You remember Tony and Mac, right?" The guys, seeing I'm 'good' with the new kid being here, bump fists with Richie as Tony says, "Yeah, dude, good to see you again. Hey, c' mere, you've gotta see this." The three of them go over to the ocean side of the boards to look down at the people on the beach. Probably to show Richie a girl sunbathing with her top off, or something 'teenage-boy-normal' like that.
Hmm, this is a silly thought for me to have considering everything we've been through, but I'm glad it's Tony and Mac here today because they both have buzz cut haircuts, which I told Richie all the guys in my 'gang' have, although half of them don't. Mac is a little standoffish to Richie, but he's like that with everybody. Tony, on the other hand, quickly is won over by the new kid, as I knew he would be. Well, there are very few people who wouldn't be won over by a friendly, nice-looking, smiling 'go-along' kid like Richie. And what did he say his last name was? Richie Michael? No, it's Mealey. Yeah, that's right... Richard-something-Mealey.
Anyway, except for Richie showing up, today is like most of our 'gang' hang-out days. Two more of the guys show up and they're interested in Richie's 'story'. After he answers their questions, he's appropriately quiet as he's observing how everyone interacts. There are the normal 'ball-busting' exchanges, the snickering at the tourists, smoking too many cigarettes, and buying 'junk' food from the stands. In other words, the guys are being their normal dumb-ass-selves with, as I said, lots of breaking each other's balls about little things for laughs, and talking-up the girls that are unfortunate enough to walk by. It's rude undisciplined behavior that we really need to stop doing at our age. Everything makes the guys laugh though, even unfunny things, so it actually appears they're having a great time, and they probably are, although I'm bored.
Yeah, I'm bored except for observing Richie as he slowly gets the 'feel' of things. There's definitely something about him that fascinates me. Not just me though, for a first day of fitting in with new friends, waiting to be included in whatever the guys are doing, Richie's fitting in like a hand fits a glove. He even goes along with the guys' teaching him how to smoke cigarettes. Yeah, well, that's one more thing I can feel guilty about.
I'm not participating in most of today's nonsense, and I'd have ridden off by now in search of solitude if Richie weren't here. I stick around longer than normal to make sure the kid isn't getting dumped on too much, and he's not. He's socially adept and I'll bet he had a lot of friends wherever it was he lived before moving here.
As usual, when I decided to change locations today, move up or down the boardwalk, or walk out onto the sand, or whatever, the boys come along because, well, that's what they do. So, as I said, I stay around longer than most days because Richie has brightened my day... he's an enormous breath of fresh air, and then, because I've still got money in my pocket, I buy the boys pizza and sodas for lunch. I give the credit to Richie by telling the guys it's a welcome party for the new kid. Later, Jay and Tucker show up too, and, oh fuck, Jay has a ponytail which is about as far from a buzz cut as you can get, but Richie doesn't seem to notice or, at least he doesn't say anything to me about it. He probably knew my buzz cut requirement was bullshit from the start.
The next couple of days it becomes obvious that, as I thought, Richie is simply different from the guys, from myself. He isn't as, um, as 'raw' as me and my life-long playmates, or as crude. Us guys grew up poor with sort of a pirate's mentality, always looking for illegal or borderline illegal activities to entertain ourselves with; thumbing our noses at society's norms. It's obvious Richie isn't like that. He appears appalled when the guys do a little stealing here and there, or as we call it, 'borrowing stuff' when the opportunity presents itself. That same philosophy applies with the phony soliciting for imaginary charities from the tourist. Richie stays on the periphery of those activities, not participating. He also seems uncomfortable with the rude innuendoes and sexually explicit things said to girls walking by. I haven't participated in those activities myself; not for a year or so now, although I have in the past. All that shit has gotten very 'old' to me as I started noticing myself getting irritated by that sort of thing a year or so ago, and then even more so this summer. I haven't figured out what to do about that yet. I mean, I'm still here on the boardwalk at nineteen unsure of what to do next.
When I'm sure Richie's 'fitting-in' okay, I tell the guys I need to be somewhere and then ride off on my bike. I'm still concerned and confused about my continued infatuation with Richie but, at the same time, I'm happy he's joined the 'gang'. At my house, lying on my bed, a small fan moving hot air back and forth, I try fighting my demons, meaning my, um, more or less 'gay' inclinations toward Richie. Yeah, I'd describe anyone else who had similar inclinations as 'gay', so why wouldn't that apply to my situation as well? There's no sense in ignoring that I have more than the passing 'interest' in the new kid. I had a passing 'interest' in that rich, snooty Ryan Gilmore, and that was disturbing enough, but this is worse, this thing for Richie is much worse. It's more serious than whatever that 'Gilmore' thing was. I've figured that much out.
I wonder how obvious this is to Richie, though? He should hate me but he doesn't; quite the opposite actually. While all this 'Richie-concern' is very real, there isn't a single person on earth who I can talk to about it. God forbid I talk to Danny about it. That will never happen! No, I'm on my own; totally on my own dealing with this complicating, confusing situation I find myself in, but yet I think I'm glad to be in it. Weirdly, I'm glad I'm in the Richie, um, dilemma, problem, whatever the fuck it is...
Yeah, well, maybe I've always been on my own and this infatuation with Richie is just putting a spotlight on that fact. And, maybe if I didn't have this phony tough-guy persona that I've kept alive since I was nine or ten years old, I'd be able to confide in someone. Someone who I wasn't trying to impress with how cool and tough I am. In any case, I could use some advice. Yes, but me asking advice about having gay-type feelings is as unlikely a prospect as I can imagine! Gawd! Why did that kid have to move here anyway? Oh, fuck! How stupid is that? Trying to blame this on Richie is stupid beyond belief.
If only I could think rationally for one fuckin' minute, but he's so, um, so different and special! Yeah, but fuck this! I hop off the bed and go into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of Danny's beer from the refrigerator, then stop. No, beer isn't going to help. I put the bottle back and go outside to sit on a lawn chair in the backyard.
Smoking cigarettes is a bad idea, everybody knows that, but I can't help chuckling when I think how serious the boys were showing Richie how to smoke, and Richie trying not to cough. Ha-ha, and then Richie's bullshit story about his dad not allowing him to get a buzz cut. Jesus, I could tell that was a spur of the moment lie. Get real, I'm supposed to believe his dad thinks only racist skinheads get buzz cuts? Hell, this is 2006 and the past few years buzz cuts have made a comeback... you see guys with buzz cuts all over the place? Richie's a terrible liar, and good for him. Being a good liar is nothing to be proud of.
Then, I think how tree days from now I'll be working on the farm from six in the morning until two or three in the afternoon which will cut into my time spent doing 'nothing' on the boardwalk and, thereby, greatly reducing my exposure to Richie and the problems I have with that. Working will allow me to chill out and get 'over' him. Plus, I'll be fat with cash and can go to the Atlantic City race track with Danny and his friends on weekends, giving me another reason to be away from the boardwalk.
It's obvious that Richie is happy to have finally made some friends, and I'm happy for him. And, even though he has a forty-minute walk to the boardwalk he does that regularly. When I'm working, I'll probably see him most days, but only for an hour or two after work. And, hell, maybe I'll discover something extremely annoying about him by seeing him every day, and that will help me get over the fascination I have about him. No, I can't imagine what he would do to annoy me, but who knows, it could happen.
In any case, my job means my exposure to Richie will be reduced to only small daily doses, so, incrementally, little by little, I can figure out exactly what my 'Richie-concerns' are. Maybe these concerns will fade on their own, Well, Goddamn, you know what? I feel much better now that I've thought this out logically. Whew, ha-ha, I was sort of panicking there for a while. No need to be overly concerned though; the summer job will change everything. It'll give me something normal to be concerned about.
So, with all that in mind, I'm not going to allow the new kid to change what I've been doing for years. I'll get something to eat and then ride back to the boards as if nothing happened; and, as far as anyone knows, nothing did happen. Sure, I still need to try making up for my gross behavior with Richie, and I'll figure out something. I know, after hanging out with the boys for a while, I'll offer Richie a ride home. That's kind of special. I've never offered rides to the other guys because if I did it for one, I'd need to do it for all of them.
Giving him a ride home, I'll get to know Richie better as well as making 'things' up to him a little. Obviously, no more bullying... and no touching. Sounds like a plan, so, I make a P & J sandwich for lunch feeling pretty good about figuring things out. I ride back to the boardwalk and, after parking and locking my bike, I find the guys on the beach tossing a Frisbee around. I'm guessing they stole it from some tourist kid. Sitting on a beach-side boardwalk-bench smoking cigarettes, I watch the guys tossing the Frisbee. They're laughing and insulting each other as, mostly, I'm staring at Richie who is more athletic than I expected he'd be after watching him running from the gangster 'painters' that time.
Then, a new, never-before thought occurs to me, and it's that, while these boys are my lifelong friends, not one of them is an especially close friend, a 'best' friend. There are close friends between some of the guys, but I'm not 'best' friends with any of them. I'm their leader. I've never once thought about confiding something personal with any of them. As their unofficially elected leader, I'm different from all of them. No, I'm not saying I'm different in a better way; I'm just different, and I always have been.
Over the years I've laughed with them, and at them. I'm laughing right now at Joey who's running to catch the Frisbee, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he runs right over some tourist's blanket. Ha-ha, he almost stepped on that man's arm! Joey doesn't care, and now he's barking some comment back at the man as if it's the man's fault for being there. Yeah, well, I never said the guys aren't good for some laughs.
The thing is, somehow these thoughts I'm having about the boys make me feel lonely. It's not the first time over the years I've felt that way. I've felt that way for a long time. Jesus, what a strange thing to admit. Well, fuck, I am a self-admitted 'loner' so, of course, I feel lonely. Maybe that's part of my interest in the new kid; he could be a real friend, different from the guys I grew up with. Maybe he could become my best friend. I've never had a best friend, and... Good God, what's happening to me? This is the first time I've ever had pussy-whiny-type thoughts like the ones I just had. Am I feeling sorry for myself, is that it? This isn't the real me... is it?
No way! I can't allow this kid to turn me into a, um, a whiny-pussy. I can't all of a sudden be an apologetic 'good guy', a 'golly gee', 'let's-be-friends' kind of guy. That's not who I am, although that seems to be who he is, who Richie is. Well, he is a bit of a pussy, but he's not whiny. Oh man, I need to take a deep breath! I'm thinking weird thoughts again.
And then, I have my 'bail-out' thought; my way to run away from all this. Why don't I take the easy way out and just join the Marines? I've graduated, Danny won't let me officially join Mr. DeCarlo's gang of hoodlums, so I either get a 'straight' job or join the Armed Forces. Let the Marines decide what I need to worry about. Be with a bunch of phony macho assholes like myself. Yeah, we could all try to insincerely out-phony each other about what gung-ho tough 'bad-asses' we are.
Or, I need to calm the fuck down again! Hmm, Mom and Danny encouraged me to take the summer deciding what I'm going to do after graduating, and that's what I'll do. I need to stop overanalyzing everything, especially my Richie conundrum.
Oh, the boys are coming up the steps from the beach. They don't see me sitting here, so I call out to them, "Hey, whasup, boys?" Richie shows his awesome smile as Tony goes, "Oh, hey, hi, Mike! Um, fuck, I don't want to piss you off but an hour ago that asshole Ronny Blair was here looking for you." I'm like, "Yeah? What'd that dink want?" Joey says, "He said Jose is looking for you and, I guess, looking for Richie too. Something about you and Richie 'punking' Jose and that psycho, Punchy Toms, or some such shit." Joey chirps in, "Yeah, and, ha-ha, Richie was right here but Ronny don't know him." I shrug, "Well, what'd you tell him?" Tony lights a smoke, nods at Mac, and says, "Nothing. Mac called Ronny an asshole and told him to go fuck himself."
I shrug again because punks like Ronny Blair are no problem for me. I do wonder what Richie thinks about it though, so, to get him talking, I'm like, "What'd you tell him, Richie?" He shakes his head, "Nothing, I hid behind Tony." I go, "Heh-heh, don't worry about Ronny; he's a messenger boy. I can kick his ass; plus, Jose is just blowing wind up a dead horse's ass. He's not going to do shit. He knows he'll get in trouble with his boss if he bothers us again."
Richie looks nervous as he nods, and I'm like, "Hey, Mac, flag down that asshole vendor selling Italian Ice." Mac yells at the vendor and when the vendor pushes his cart over to us, we all get a cup of flavored ice as I'm thinking how it's strange Jose is pretending to pursue this because if his boss finds out, Jose will definitely be in trouble. There's a truce between the DeCarlo and Lira gangs. I'm not in the DeCarlo gang, but Danny is... and, I'm family.
Nah, I'm not worried about it, and after cooling off with the Italian Ice, we all smoke cigarettes and shoot the shit for a while, and then I'm like, "Well, I'm starting my summer job Monday so I won't be seeing you homos until later in the afternoon most days." They all nod their head because this has been normal for the past two summers. Not Richie though. He says, "Oh, um, I didn't think you'd be working at the farm this early in the summer." I nod, "Yeah, the early corn is ready. Anyway, right now I need to take off, so..." That's a lie. and then, as if I just thought of it, I mumble, "I'm going right past your house, Richie, so if you want a lift home you'd need to leave right now." Giving him a ride is at least an effort to make up for my unfair treatment. Ya know, the smallest 'good deed' is worth a million 'best intentions'.
Of course, Richie says, "Oh, man, that would be awesome. Thanks, Mike." The guys look startled that I'm offering him a ride. Tony's giving me a frowning questioning look, which I ignore. Then he touches Richie's arm and says, "Yo, Richie, um, we got that thing we wanna do tomorrow. Don't forget." Richie says, "Absolutely! I'll be here by eleven, Tony." I'm like, "Well, later boys," and we bump fists. Then, I start walking down the ramp with Richie's following me so closely he could be my shadow. He says, "This is really nice of you, Mike." I shrug, muttering, "Yeah, well, don't get used to it." See I can't help but be an asshole.
And, if this was a rare one-time occurrence riding Richie home it probably won't raise questions, but I intend to do it a few times a week so it could eventually cause a problem. I can't help that. I owe this kid some favors. The guys will simply need to be okay with it. Hell, I'm the boss, right?
Richie, remembered the fast take off the last time he was on my bike, gets his arms around me tightly before I even start the motor. Ha, he's anticipating a fast take-off and he's right, but I need to close my eyes for a second. It feels so good to be basically hugged like this. I shake my head once to clear my mind before firing up the engine and immediately taking off like a rocket; then, showing off, I drive much too fast through town. And, when we're on the back roads, holy shit, I really get the motor roaring. I love the sound of the mufflers. Plus, I knew Richie would need to hug me even tighter now. He has the side of his face on the back of my shoulder and it's an exhilarating new and exciting sensation.
It's also infuriating because I feel I'm losing control again. This time though, I'm determined to deal with my previous lack of control by not touching Richie. He'll need to do any touching between us.
I'm taking a roundabout way to his house to extend the experience as much as I dare. Finally, though, I pull up to an abrupt stop across the street from his place, and then balance the idling, rumbling motorbike with a foot on either side. Richie hesitates for a second before taking his arms away and then he slides off the back of the bike, That's the wrong way to get off, although I don't correct him. Standing next to me, he says, "Thank you, Mike." Keeping my eyes straight ahead, not looking at him, I mumble, "Yeah, no problem."
He tentatively touches my arm, asking, "Would you like a Coke. I can get us Cokes if you want." Fuck, I'm freezing up again. Instead of being civil, I mumble a stupid, idiotic warning, "You better talk your dad into letting you get a buzz cut," and I take off feeling as stupid as that last comment was.
Omigod, I want to scream! What a dumb ass thing to say. I mean, he's already witnessed guys with different hairstyles. The truth is, I don't give a shit if he has a buzz cut or not. It's my brother Danny who is fixated on me having a buzz cut. Dammit, I couldn't think what to say so I blurted out the buzz cut crap. That frustrates me so much I could scream. Why do I say such dumb shit when I'm with him?
Then, I almost crash the bike not paying attention when taking the turn at the end of the block. Shit! Slowing down, I laugh at myself and coast now, shaking my head, thinking, 'Stop acting like a fool around that kid.' I can't believe the way he turns me into a jackass, and he's not even trying to do that. Well, no, Richie doesn't turn me into a jackass... I do that all by myself! No matter what I do or say, it doesn't seem to bother him as much as it bothers me.
Then, Saturday, I don't go to the boardwalk. Instead, I work in our driveway as a mechanic's helper for Danny and his best friend, Bruce O'Neil, putting a new engine in Danny's Mustang. My job is 'flunky', meaning I hand them tools, get coffees at Dunkin' Donuts, and do whatever else they tell me to do. After a couple of hours, Danny sends me inside for cold beers. We all drink beer and smoke. Danny making Bruce and I laugh at his funny story about how he won this car engine playing poker. Bruce doesn't talk much, but he's a really good guy and he treats me okay, so I like him.
I know the new motor we're putting into Danny's 2001 Mustang is uber-powerful and came out of a new car. They don't tell me directly, but I know it's from a stolen car dismantled at the DeCarlo gang's 'chop shop'. They talk about needing the power of the new engine as though they're Mississippi bootleg whiskey boys who need to outrun prohibition cops on thunder road.
Then, an intriguing part of the day is Danny telling me about a job he'll be doing for Mr. DeCarlo in a week or two; it's a job he'll need my help with. I'll be doing the job Bruce normally helps Danny with as Bruce will be 'out of town' that day doing something they don't mention. I'm assuming Danny's 'job' is a criminal endeavor, but Danny wouldn't ask me to do it if he thought it was dangerous. That being said, there's a dangerous component in anything Danny does in Atlantic City when it's for Mr. DeCarlo.
The thought of being Danny's backup both scares and excites me in equal amounts. I'd never let Danny down, so I'm like, "Sure, no problem, bro." I don't know if my fake bravado fools Danny. I act tough and cool with him but, at the same time, I treat him like my hero. I noticed Danny and Bruce exchanging grins when I said 'No problem', but I don't mention it. Maybe Danny sees through my 'act', I'm never sure. Today he rubbed my head, mumbling, "I can always count on you, Mikey," as he grinned at Bruce.
When the engine is installed, we go for a run and, Omigod, the new engine is badass! After that, I hang out with Danny and Bruce getting served beer at a 'dive' bar in Margate City. We play pool, talk, and joke with other DeCarlo gang members. Heh heh, when we first sat at the bar, the bartender smirked at Danny, mumbling, "Jesus Christ, Sullivan, you want me to lose my fucking liquor license?" He meant because I'm sitting next to Danny at the bar, but he poured us three beers and never bitched about me getting 'served' the rest of the night. We smoked pot, drank beer, and shot pool until almost three o'clock in the morning. What a cool day that was! XXX Sunday, I stay in bed until one o'clock and then hang around the house all day drinking Cokes and taking Tylenol, but last night was worth this wicked hangover I'm suffering through. Monday, early, I'm the first one at the farm getting a pat on the back from one of the foremen, forty-year-old Buddy Knight. A short time later I'm sweating my balls off walking beside the harvester machine picking off the corn that is missed by that 'effing bitch of a machine. Yeah, I'm on one side of it and Denny Mac Allister is on the other side. Both of us trying our asses off not to get cut too badly by those fucking sharp leaves on the stalks. Helping me kill the boredom, I imagine a dollar sign with each drop of sweat that falls off my forehead. I like earning money.
Then, by three-thirty, I've ridden home on my bike, showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and I'm on my way to see what's up with the boys on the boardwalk. At our usual spot on forty-second street, I find Tony, Mac, Tiny Dick, aka Tucker, and Richie talking to Officer-cunt-lapper-Myers. When Tony sees me, he yells, "Yo, Mike, somebody says we stole a lady's wallet." Oh, fuck.
I swagger up, saying sarcastically, "Hello, Officer Myers, how are you today?" He goes, "Mike, you need to get your boys under control." I smile a fake smile, saying, "First off, Officer, they're not 'my boys'. And, secondly, what's this shit about someone stealing something?" He goes, "Look, I went to high school with your brother, and, no matter what he's into now, he and his boys never resorted to robbing the tourist. I'd hate to think your boys are doing that." I go, "As I think I just mentioned, they're not my boys. They're my friends, and we don't steal anything. Who says we did?"
It turns out a lady reported her purse was stolen from the beach when she was in the ocean with her little girl. The lady said she saw a teenager walking away. Naturally, this dick-head boardwalk cop assumes it was one of us. He assumed that without an ounce of evidence. I ask the guys, "Did any of you steal the wallet?" They all shake their heads looking innocent. Mac says, "We haven't been near fiftieth street all summer, Mike. You know that." Ha ha... that's a lie!
The boardwalk cop is just a summer 'pretend' cop. Still, I always sarcastically call, 'officer'. I go, "There you have it, Officer Myers," and he goes, "Look, guys, I didn't say it was you who stole it. I was just inquiring if you have any idea who might be stealing stuff." I spread my hands, smiling and saying, "Uh-huh, sure. If we hear anything, we'll look you up, Officer Myers." He looks stern, saying, "Yeah, I won't hold my breath. And don't let me catch you with your motorbike on the boards, Mike." I make a 'face' at him and he pedals off on his bicycle.
Tony says, "That asshole told us he was taking us in for questioning, but he changed his attitude when you showed up. You came just in time, Mike." I mutter, "He wasn't going to take you anyplace whether I showed up or not."
Yeah, that guy, Myers, went to school with Danny. He knows very well what Danny's doing now, so he's not stupid enough to get Danny on his case. It's fear of Danny, not me, that ran that boardwalk cop off. Still, it's so fucking typical he'd immediately harass the local guys. That's the easy thing to do. He just wanted to be able to report that he questioned the 'usual suspects', basically abusing his 'power' as an authority figure. Fuck him. Danny told me Myers has always been too much of a pussy to ever be a real cop.
The guys are muttering stuff like, 'Mike showed that asshole'. Meanwhile, I'm being super friendly to Richie, "Hey, bro, how ya doing today?" He looks extra good today because over the weekend he got a haircut. No, it's definitely not a buzz cut, and good for him. His haircut is what the barbers refer to as a 'boy's special'. Or, that's what they called it when I was a preteen and accepted whatever haircut the barber thought I needed. Later, as a teenager, I'd go with Danny and get a buzz cut.
Whatever, Richie's way too old for the 'boy's special' haircut with white sidewalls, but I guess he let the barber decide. Now his neck is white at the back where his long hair previously protected his skin from the sun. The contrast of suntanned and white skin makes me smile for some reason. I guess Richie doesn't care much about what haircut he gets.
Or, maybe he does care because he's acting self-consciously about his short haircut, rubbing up the bristly hair at the back of his head, as he says, "Oh, I'm good, Mike. Um, I didn't get a buzz cut although I was going to ask the barber, um..." I mutter, "Don't worry about it." Still feeling the hair at the back of his head, he asks, "How was your first day at work?" See, none of the guys would think to ask me that. It's a perfectly normal question but none of the guys would ask it. I nod, mumbling, "Good, okay. It was hot as a bitch but good to be earning some money."
It's a struggle not to touch him. You know, touch him to maybe give his shoulder a squeeze, or rub his head as Danny always does to me. Instead, I go, "Yeah, the work itself, um, well it blows, but the money's good." He nods his head, muttering, "Oh," and again I'm feeling awkward around him. Dammit! I go, "Um, well, I'm going to walk on the beach for a while." As I'm going down the steps to the beach, I know that Richie and the guys will follow me, and they do. We all walk the beach with Richie walking close to me as the guys tell me stuff, things they did or saw, or gossip they heard this past weekend.
As we walk, while Richie doesn't do it, but the other three guys inflict a little abuse on the tourists who are unfortunate enough to be in our path. It comes natural to then and they can't help themselves. I'm rolling my eyes as Richie and I snicker. It's as though we both know the guts' behavior is totally inappropriate and not too cool, but kind of funny anyway.
We're walking on the wet sands near the ocean where the waves run off up the beach a little before undertow pulls the water back to, for all I know, eventually go all the way across the ocean to people on the beaches of Portugal at the other side of the Atlantic from us.
We end up way down the beach before going up on the boardwalk again at the Splash Zone Water Park. After watching the activity there for a few minutes, we walk the boards back to where we started an hour ago. At five-thirty I ride off for home without giving Richie a ride, although I wanted too, I'm not doing that every day. I also made an effort NOT to give him more attention than anyone else although he stuck very close to me all afternoon. He's the quiet type though, and I would have liked to ask him about his weekend. I didn't because I'm not sure how cool his relationship with his old man is, and I don't want to pry.
The next day after work, Tuesday afternoon, I'm back screwing around with the boys on the boardwalk. Then, later, as I was about to leave, I get Tony alone to ask him, "Hey, how's the new kid getting along with you guys?" He shrugs, "Richie's an awesome guy, but kinda quiet." I nod, "Oh yeah? How does he get here every day?" Tony says, "I don't know," and then he calls over, "Yo, Richie, c' mere."
Obviously, I already know how he gets here. I want Tony to know. It's highly unlikely Richie would tell these guys he walks forty minutes here and back every day because that is kind of an embarrassing admission. Who would do THAT every day? Anyway, Tony asks, and Richie hedges a little but finally admits it's a forty-minutes-walk each way. Tony goes, "What the fuck? Jesus H Christ, Richie, forty minutes? Fuck, you've got my cell phone number... call me. I'll pick you up when I can get my mom's car, or hook you up with one of the other guys who have a car that day."
Tony can use his mom's car occasionally and other guys can get a car on occasion as well. They talk about giving Richie a ride to the boardwalk some days, and then Tiny Dick says, "You should get a bicycle, Richie." They talk about that until I finally mumble to Richie, "Well, I can give you a lift home today if you're ready to go right now."
Naturally, he's ready to go. I started that conversation so the guys would understand why I'm giving Richie rides even though I don't do it for any of them. And so, it begins.
Yeah, four days a week I'll say, "Hey, guys, I've gotta take off now," and tthen I'll ask Richie, "Do you want a ride, dickhead?" He always does and, without realizing it until Richie mentions it, I'm leaving the boardwalk earlier and earlier as the days go by. Obviously, that's because I like the time with Richie alone. And, instead of taking him directly home, I ride him all over Wildwood, some days not getting him home until six o'clock or later. He appears to be fine with whatever time I get him there.
During these long ride's 'home', I take him to small beaches and various schools I went to while growing up and, occasionally, I'll stop at one of the school's playground and we'll sit on the swings like we did that day after that so-called gay 'test'. I only think of it once a day, once a day all day long... haha. No, it's not that bad, but I do still feel bad about it.
Anyway, we talk about lots of things. Richie's 'quiet' on the boardwalk with the guys, but once he gets to talking, he's quite the talker with me. His voice is so youthful sounding, it's almost musical. He's interested in everything I'm interested in, like... the mystery of the different religions and how so much war and pain have been done in the name of religions throughout history. We talk about UFOs, the stars, and the incomprehensible size of the universe. Also, topics such as music, even politics, life, and death, whatever the fuck.
I've broached the topic of 'girls' mentioning the few girlfriends I've had and how I've never really connected with any of them, not yet I haven't. I'm interested in what he'll say when I admit I haven't cracked the 'code' of seeing things from a girl's viewpoints so I can be comfortable on dates, or some such double talk like that. Richie's only comment was a mumbled, "I act like a moron around girls."
Hmm, that isn't telling me much. I ride us to a convenience store and we buy sodas and smokes, sometimes not talking at all, and that feels okay too. It's like everything we do we're connecting more and more, bonding somehow. Becoming friends in a distinctly different manner than I've experienced with anyone else in my life. It's as though we know a secret together and we both know we know it, but we aren't talking about it. Yeah, it's very strange, but my time with Richie has become special to me... the best part of my day.
I avoid initiating any touching although he isn't shy at all about touching. He does it all the time as we talk or walk, and I don't mean only his arms tightly around me as we fly down the back roads on my motorbike. He's a touchy/feely kind of guy touching my arm when he tells me something or when he points out something of interest we're riding by. He appears unaware of the contrasts between my lack of touching and his 'extra' touching. As for me, I'm enjoying his touching tendencies, but I don't mention it.
Richie asks many questions about me but I'm not especially forthcoming because Danny has taught me to be close-mouthed about our family, mostly because of the illegal nature of his activities, and occasionally the illegal nature of my own. So, I don't tell Richie a lot about me, although one time he asked if I did any sports in high school and that opened up an entirely new avenue of interaction for us.
Yeah, I was on the varsity wrestling team junior and senior years. That's the only thing I've done of an extra curriculum nature all though twelve years of schooling. Thinking about that now, I'm wondering if I did it subconsciously enjoying. the bodily contact with other guys. If I wasn't in this Richie, um, friendship or whatever it is we have together, a thought like that last one would never have entered my head.
Anyway, Richie asked me to teach him a few wrestling 'holds', which I pretended was a pain in the ass but was secretly happy to do. Yeah, there are few human activities that require more bodily contact than wrestling. So, we wrestle for ten minutes or so most days with the pretense of me showing him different wrestling moves. That provides all the bodily contact with him I could possibly want. All I'd admit to myself anyhow.
He feels awesome, his slim body getting sweaty against mine. Then, breathing deeply after lots of exertion, we'll just hold onto one another for a couple of extra seconds, both of us with hard boners that we never mention. There are no words I'm aware of that can describe how otherworldly wonderful it feels when we're tightly embracing and especially the last couple of seconds when we're basically hugging one another, sometimes with the sides of our faces together. It only lasts that very short time because as soon as I'm aware of my boner almost breaking from its hardness I separate as if all of a sudden, we caught on fire. In a way, I am on fire.
I can't stop myself from being an asshole then and I'll usually say something like, "Stop hugging me, for Christ's sake, Richie! How many times do I gotta tell you that? We're wrestling, not getting married! Hugging isn't a part of wrestling, dick-head!" Richie, of course, being the magnanimous one, apologizes, but then adds, "That wasn't actually hugging though; we were catching our breath."
After wrestling we're so hot and sweaty I usually ride him to his house, cooling off a little from the air flowing over us as we fly down those back roads. At his house, I always try softening my rudeness, saying something like, "Um, you're wrestling has improved a lot." Big smile from Richie, "Thanks, Mike, you're a good teacher."
Speaking of 'fire', one night there's a catastrophe. My mom's house catches on fire... for real. It's like... you've got to be shitting me! And thank God it was not arson because that would bring suspicion on the Lira gang. No, the Fire Marshal said it was just a fucked-up wiring problem. A spark set the fire off. No one is injured, but it will be six weeks before the place is livable again. Mom and I will need to crowd in with her sister's family; my aunt, uncle, and four cousins. Jesus! That has to happen just when things were going so well for me too. Life is like that.